A Strong Constitution
by Butane Baby
Summary: Bulma wanted to surprise Vegeta with news she expected to bring their family closer. Parenthood's journey can teach hard lessons, though.


**Wrote this a while ago and then set it aside. It's dedicated to a good friend. Thanks for giving it a chance. - BB**

* * *

Bulma descended the stage at the Continental Academy of Sciences, having awarded a brilliant young researcher with a fellowship to pursue further study in healthcare engineering. She smiled wistfully while leaving the still-full auditorium, listening to her excited awardee's chatter fade.

Others tried pulling Bulma aside to chit chat, though unsuccessfully. She knew the building's design well, it's hiding places and escape routes, which proved a godsend. Returning to her private lab at Capsule Corporation seemed to be the best option. No one would dare to interrupt her there. Whereas some people preferred yoga for meditation, Bulma perused dusty, frayed books and tinkered with various miniature mechanical models. There, she sloughed off concerns about her company - or protecting her little part of the galaxy, supporting Earth's strongest fighters and mystics who rose to the challenge when needed. No doubt, despite their bravery, almost all of them had moments when they didn't want to be called on to serve the greater good.

They just wanted to be left alone sometimes, just like Bulma did now.

She unlocked a wooden cabinet centered between an entire wall of books stretching several feet on both sides. She put on her reading glasses briefly to inspect an unopened bottle of vodka placed there almost two years ago. After opening a jar of green olives, she mixed up a dirty martini using the expensive spirit, and then returned to her cluttered work table for a "toy" to play with.

She knew better than to be drinking then, after everything that happened. Yet angry defiance swelled in her chest.

"Why not have a fucking martini?" she said, raising the chilled triangular glass overhead, mocking her predicament. "Yes."

When Bulma finally lowered the glass to sip, tiny drops of the mixture glided over the rim onto her right thumb and forefinger. Luckily she was ambidextrous, so retrieving her phone to answer an unwanted call wasn't difficult. She exhaled, feeling ambivalent about talking, but a soothing voice probably would lift her spirits.

"Hey, dear. How are you feeling today?""

"Good enough for one drink, Chi Chi."

"Only one?" Chi Chi replied with a kind laugh. "Damn. That's a miracle. We only have a few days left before the boys get home. I'm offended that you didn't invite me over to get wasted."

Appreciative for her friend's nonjudgmental lightheartedness, Bulma laughed. "You are welcome to visit the cave."

"You're at the lab?" Chi Chi asked. "Didn't you have that awards ceremony earlier?"

"Yeah, but you know me. With Vegeta coming back soon, I need to get my mind right."

After a weighty pause, Chi Chi responded, "He's your husband. You can't keep what happened to yourself."

Slowly sipping from her glass, Bulma picked up a rare copy of "Anatomy of the Human Body," commonly called "Gray's Anatomy." Postmodern science did a marvelous job of preserving the contents. The detailed illustrations inside remained exquisite for the time in which they were rendered.

"Hello?"

Bulma's teary blue eyes lingered on an illustration of a woman's uterus before she closed the book. "I heard you," she said softly, trying to control her emotions. "I'm not sure what good it will do. Vegeta can be really supportive with many things. But with others, even now, not so much - although not in a bad way. He's still learning, I guess."

"And always will be," Chi Chi reassured. "Just like Goku, whom I love dearly though I want to throttle him daily. Even if they weren't Saiyans, since when have you heard of husbands understanding everything about the women in their lives?"

"Now you're just being sexist," Bulma teased, mustering another laugh. "I bet your father and sons would be insulted. My dad too, if he were alive."

"Perhaps," Chi Chi pondered aloud, "and Goku and Vegeta in some ways probably do understand our personalities better than they can express in words, which is why Vegeta should know. He will sense something."

"Yeah, but he won't pester me unless I make a fool out of myself. Saying nothing at all is better."

"Bulma, he is not _like_ my husband in that way. He will know, quickly."

"Enough!" Bulma snapped. "I am not an invalid or emotionally weak. Just like you, I have seen a lot of hell on Earth and elsewhere that most others won't, fortunately. All of us have sacrificed _plenty_ to ensure that. This, too, will pass. I am strong."

Her defensive response concluded with a sigh, followed by one from Chi Chi. She also felt dizzy, forcing her abandonment of what had been her first a tasty cocktail in months. Then she saw a damp spot on her shirt. Another unwelcome reminder of her ordeal.

"I love you," Chi Chi continued. "I don't know what I would've done without your help when Goku wasn't around to help me with Gohan and Goten completely. Though I have longstanding criticisms about Vegeta's behavior, the one thing I do know is he'll go above and beyond when he's challenged to step up."

"Chi, neither of us should be surprised that I miscarried, especially at my age," Bulma replied, unfastening her shirt and bra. Thin dots of liquid seeped from her right nipple. "We weren't looking to have another child anyway."

They weren't, but Bulma quickly warmed to the idea after learning about her pregnancy. Vegeta had just left to train off-planet with Goku for a few months. Though they hadn't planned for it, Vegeta didn't reject the idea outright when Bulma joked about trying. He simply felt that if his wife didn't take the subject seriously, then he wouldn't. Bulma had a million ideas run through her head at any moment. Her chatter about them seemed like "throwing spaghetti on a wall," as their son Trunks explained to his father once.

"She puts it all out there to see what sticks and what doesn't," the teenager said, as if Vegeta hadn't learned this truism long before Trunks was born.

It dawned on Bulma that Vegeta probably wouldn't have needed much convincing had she been honest with herself from the start. Normally, her husband disliked big surprises in any form. But this? How couldn't it be delightful?

How couldn't it be _delightful_? It wouldn't be like the last time, of course.

She decided not to contact Vegeta during his trip. He would get distracted and likely grow frustrated about _becoming_ distracted. For all of his strength and resolve, Vegeta had anxiety problems sometimes, although he would never describe it that way. His natural gruffness was a useful defensive mechanism, fooling others when he experienced the worst of those feelings, but Bulma usually saw through the façade. Growing more in love with each other daily makes a spouse's inner turmoil far more recognizable.

Then the fetus miscarried sixteen weeks into Bulma's pregnancy, almost three weeks to the day her husband would return home. She was hospitalized briefly for the process to "complete" itself. Except Bulma's mother Panchy and Chi Chi, nobody knew about the pregnancy because Bulma had not been showing much before miscarrying - a surprising development. Trunks had traveled with his father, probably the longest time the boy had been away from Bulma since his birth.

Bulma didn't venture far from either the family room or the bedroom for most of the week after returning from hospital. Despite lingering abdominal cramps and other bodily aches, she kept busy with sketching and reading. However, she didn't eat much, which Panchy and Chi Chi tried to fix. Both were fantastic cooks, so they lovingly competed making meals. By the second week, Bulma had a haircut, manicure, and a few new outfits for staff meetings at her company. She even went to the gym for light exercise. But this week had been harder. Vegeta's impending arrival weighed on her spirit.

"Chi Chi, I'm going home to eat more of that roast you sent." Bulma felt her motivation disintegrate as she lied. "The day has worn on me more than I expected. I'll call you later."

"OK, dear. Just think about what I said. Panchy didn't really know how to bring up the subject. I had no problem with it."

Bulma had no energy to comfort or discuss her mother. "You'll have your hands full when Goku gets home. He'll be hungry -and annoying. Save your energy."

"That's an understatement," Chi Chi agreed, laughing. "Bye now."

* * *

Bulma's already weakened appetite disappeared after leaving the lab. Robotic instruments gathered around at home, taking her jacket, bringing her slippers, and handing her water soon as she arrived. She felt chilled, almost like an Arctic wind gust sailed through her body, saturating muscle and bone with iced water.

"Make me peppermint tea upstairs, Vesta," she mumbled at an almost undetectable wall speaker. "Use two bags, please."

"Yes, Dr. Brief," a female voice replied. A green-eyed, brunette-haired hologram appeared, eyeing Bulma curiously. "You don't look well. Maybe ginger tea would be a better choice."

Bulma realized that she had been rubbing her stomach mindlessly. "Well, yes, my tummy is a bit upset now," she said, looking down. "I had a martini much earlier that isn't agreeing with my body, apparently."

Vesta frowned. "Apparently."

For a moment Bulma thought she programmed her virtual assistant too well. Vesta's personality had too much of Vegeta's sarcasm. She'd have to change that.

"I'm going upstairs and not taking any calls, except from mom and Chi Chi, but not until I have a nap."

"Yes, Dr. Brief, but it is also seven p.m. If you nap now, it will be harder to sleep later."

"Stop it!" Bulma shouted wearily from the staircase. "All I want is some fucking tea. That's all I need."

"Of course, ma'am," Vesta said compliantly. "I apologize."

Yelling felt good, even gratifying, because Bulma knew her assistant wouldn't care. Her favorite technician at Capsule Corporation designed Vesta to react coolly and intelligently to almost any challenge or insult, which Vesta did well. Surviving the constant chaos of Bulma's family and friends required a strong constitution.

Bulma dressed in pajamas on the bed. She avoided the bathroom, not wanting to recall the bloody moment when she realized her pregnancy was ending. The stubborn chill she felt didn't cease until she burrowed between her bed's comforter and sheets. Steaming ginger tea was placed on the nightstand next to her, which she consumed quickly, relaxing her. Before submitting to sleep's call, for the first time ever, she considered how good it might be not to get up ever again.

Invalidating Vesta's prediction, Bulma slept almost eleven hours. She probably would have slept longer had she not been disturbed. Congealed mucus on her lashes and eyes blurred her vision.

"Dr. Brief, you are obviously ill," said Vesta, now in her robotic form. "We should get you to a doctor."

"I'm _fine_." Bulma snarled sullenly. "I am run down and likely developing a cold or some other bug. More sleep and tea will get me through before the boys arrive."

"Bulma, your body -"

"Do you want me to shut you down permanently?!" Bulma threw a pillow over the robot's head. "Don't talk to me about my body! You are not in my body! I just told you what I needed. More sleep!"

"You can turn me off at any time," Vesta replied calmly. "However, as you said, the boys will be home soon. In fact, they should be arriving in about two hours."

"What?" Concerned, Bulma raised up in bed. "Did something bad happen?"

"No. Trunks contacted me saying they want to surprise you - or, rather, he wants to - by coming home earlier. He asked me order a good dinner."

"Oh." Bulma felt tired again, realizing that she'd have to be a good actress earlier than expected. "Just give me another hour. You ordered dinner, right?"

"Yes." Vesta handed her another cup of tea. "You programmed me to be persistent when necessary. You were in the hospital less than a month ago. I am not being irrational."

"An hour, Vesta." Bulma turned over, sliding beneath the comforter. "An hour."

By the time Vegeta, Trunks and Goku arrived, Bulma was perfectly dressed, perfumed and coiffed. Her husband entered the dining room first, followed by a perturbed Trunks.

"I can't believe Vesta snitched!" their son groused. "What is going on? This was supposed to be a surprise. You always work late on Thursdays."

"Vesta is loyal to _your mother_, not us." Vegeta said with a dismissive snort. "That _thing_ showed its true colors with me long ago. Don't expect me to pity you."

Bulma shook her head. Never a dull moment with these two, she thought. "Um, guys, how about just saying you're happy to see me?"

"I'm happy to see you!" Goku chirped joyfully. "What's all this?"

"You are so transparent," Vegeta said, mockery oozing from each word. He blocked the dining table. "Bulma is the least of your concerns beyond your bottomless stomach."

Vesta opened a metal box, flinging two capsules at Vegeta's open palm. He promptly pressed them into Goku's hands. His eyelids narrowed, a tacit command for his fellow Saiyan to get moving.

"That's not true," Goku objected, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, what's this?"

"You can return another time for dinner, OK?" Vegeta moved back, crossing his arms. "Everything on these tables is in those capsules, I suspect."

Vesta nodded. "Correct - and more."

Goku glanced at Bulma, who offered a sympathetic smile. "Are you OK, friend?" he asked, feeling confused about her silence. She probably really missed Vegeta.

"I'm fine," Bulma said, standing up to hug him. Her eyes narrowed this time, silently scolding Vegeta. "My husband will _keep_ his promise."

"Hn." Vegeta retrieved four plates, handing a couple to Trunks. "Don't I always? Also, Kakarot, I'm sure your family would prefer _sharing_ the meal you're taking."

"Yeah." Goku smiled, raising his right hand to teleport. "Chi Chi won't have it any other way. They're all in town tonight."

"We know that," Vegeta said irritably. "Stop stalling."

"Bye," Trunks said, shaking Goku's free hand. "It was great spending so much time with you and dad. I hope Goten comes next time."

Goku winked and disappeared, his voice trailing behind. "Same here, kid."

"I think I want some juice," Bulma said, heading to the kitchen. "Water is great, but my sweet tooth is calling."

"You've lost weight." Vegeta felt her stiffen as he touched her arm. She looked at his hand, raising her eyebrow cautiously.

Definitely not the response he expected. He wasn't complimenting Bulma, exactly, but he figured she might like hearing him say it anyway. Before Vegeta left on his trip, she complained about weight gain. He made sure to give the best of himself during sex over several nights, leaving her in good spirits about his feelings.

Vegeta also loved every inch of her bottle-shaped figure. Bulma knew it too. But he cared less about weight fluctuations and more about her staying healthy overall.

"I've just been exercising more, like you asked me to," she replied, flirtatiously batting her long eyelashes. "I guess it's paid off." She patted his hand. "I'll be back. Go eat."

"Aren't you hungry mom?" Trunks asked, already gnawing on meat-wrapped bone. He hadn't bothered to sit down. Grease splattered across the floor, promptly stoking Bulma's annoyance.

"Damn it, Trunks." She spoke quietly, but frustration darkened her facial features like a storm cloud. "I know you're hungry, but you know better. I just had this floor refinished. Wipe that grease up now!"

"Sorry, mom." Startled by her response, Trunks looked at Vegeta. The boy exuded mischief, but Bulma had never cursed at him directly whenever he screwed up. Everyone in their family could be absent-minded at times.

"You heard your mother," Vegeta followed. "Clean it up and sit down."

"Yes, sir." Vesta handed him a towel, rankling him. Feeling hurt, he wanted to ask why the imperious robot couldn't wipe the damned floor instead. Did everyone forget that he planned this special occasion? He had convinced Vegeta and Goku that surprising their wives would be a great gift for everyone - not an easy task.

Vegeta made sure to hold Trunks' disappointed gaze. The prince's brows subtly lifted, a signal the boy instantly recognized. Vegeta had deployed a stealth defense, protecting his son from further scolding by evenly reinforcing Bulma's request. Trunks appreciated his dad's support, but watching his parents exit left him uneasy.

Scowling, he stared up at Vesta. "Just what the hell is going on?"

"Perhaps you should give me the towel now," the robot replied, spreading more cloths on the floor around both tables. "There is nothing left to clean. You can eat."

Realizing that her blood sugar was low, Bulma quickly poured juice to keep her hands steady. She had to reduce her heart rate before Vegeta touched her again.

"Honey, I said -"

"I heard you the _first_ time," Vegeta interrupted. His eyes darted across each pressure point on Bulma's body, assessing her condition. "My hunger can _wait_."

"Really, Vegeta? You're suddenly worried? You've been gone for more than three months and back here for approximately an hour. There's nothing to see here."

"Is that so?" Vegeta took her hand, turning the palm up. "When did you last eat?"

"I said I'm fine." Bulma couldn't handle more interrogation. She moved his fingers to have more juice. "I've just been working a lot. Not getting enough sleep caught up with me this week. That's all."

_She's lying_, Vegeta thought. How could she believe he wouldn't know?

"No matter how angry we have been with each other," he said, staring hard at her, "we have always told the truth, from the very beginning." _  
_  
But had they really? Bulma wondered. Did lies of omission fit into Vegeta's equation?

Her mind and senses swam, not hearing his next question; not seeing the drinking glass fall from her hand; not sensing the juice dribble from her lips as she tumbled; not seeing her distressed husband yell for their son, or feeling Vegeta carry her in his arms.

* * *

Chi Chi, who stayed in the city overnight with her sons and in-laws, left for hospital after Vesta called. She made up an excuse for departing abruptly while everyone enjoyed the meal Goku brought, unworried about explaining herself further.

Panchy sat next to a sleeping Bulma, who had been hooked up to an IV to help hydrate her body and provide other medical assistance. Chi Chi entered laser- focused on her friend's appearance.

"It was just a scare," the older woman said, delicately stroking her daughter's arm. "Just a scare. Stress, not eating, dehydration, exhaustion. But she'll be fine, Chi Chi." Her grip tightened on Bulma's hand. "Isn't that right sweetheart? Of course it is."

Chi Chi embraced Panchy's shoulder. "Where are -" She stopped, observing the woman's anguished expression.

"Vegeta is furious with me." Panchy's lips quivered as she recalled the startled look on his face. "Trunks is confused. What was I supposed to do? They should have known all along. We told Bulma that."

"Yes, we did," Chi Chi said, attempting to soothe her, "but it's going to be all right. Here, let's step away. Tell me what happened."

Vegeta entered from a connected room, coldly settling his eyes on Chi Chi. She didn't know how this would end, but she was prepared to fight on her behalf and Bulma's.

"Let's go back in there," she told him. "Where is Trunks?"

"I'm here, Aunt Chi Chi," the boy said, moving beside Vegeta, who gave him an authoritative nod.

"Go sit with Bulma and your grandmother, son."

"But dad -"

"Not_ now, _Trunks," Vegeta said sharply. After taking a breath, he reassured the boy with a firm squeeze on the shoulder. "They both... need you there."

Chi Chi smiled, touching the boy's cheek lovingly. He had his parents' best qualities - and a few of their worst, but not many. "It's fine, honey. Your dad and I really do need to speak alone. This will all sort out over time."

"All right then," Trunks replied, still feeling unsure. "Dad, just be cool, OK? Promise me."

Vegeta looked at Chi Chi before closing the door. "You know I don't make promises I can't keep, but we'll be fine."

"How much do you intend to yell?" Chi Chi asked suspiciously as Vegeta walked past."Do I need earplugs?"

Vegeta turned on a sound-masking machine, seemingly making his intent known. "How _dare you_ joke at a time like this?" he asked. "But I know who I'm up against, so there's no reason to yell. You don't intimidate easily."

"True," Chi Chi agreed, leaning on the wall. "I hope you didn't yell at Panchy either."

"That would only upset Bulma," he said, lifting a finger, "but you three had _no right_ to keep her condition secret from me! What if she had bled to death or something else? What would you have told Trunks? Saiyan babies are _hard_ on females at all stages. And before you argue, woman, consider your words _carefully_."

"Don't _you dare_ lecture me when you've _never_ carried _any_ baby!" a rebellious Chi Chi yelled, ignoring his challenge. "Bulma and I both know _quite well_ how it feels. Almost all pregnant women know they could die, miserably and horrifically, before or after delivering a child. She only wanted to surprise you. She… thought you'd be happy."

"Situations like this are why I dislike surprises." Vegeta sighed, recalling his shock and dread after Bulma told him about her first pregnancy. "All these years together, and she still thinks that _one part_ of my personality might change."

It didn't take much for Chi Chi to guess his thoughts. She had a years-long front-row seat watching Vegeta's crooked path through relationships. "And _what_ would you have done had she told you earlier, Vegeta?"

"_Tch_." He hesitated, turning defiantly from her piercing gaze. "Does anyone else know?"

"No." Chi Chi shook her head. "Not Krillin, not my boys, Goku, or anyone else. Bulma's sister is on a space mission, so we waited to tell her too."

Vegeta opened a window shade, revealing a clear star-filled sky. "I'm done talking."

"I figured you were," Chi Chi replied knowingly. "For what it's worth, Bulma wanted you focused while training. She trusted that you would be there for her after returning."

"Are you saying this to make me feel guilty?"

"Of course not." Chi Chi grabbed the doorknob, looking back. "You really need to get over yourself, Vegeta. I don't doubt how much you love her. Not anymore."

She returned to Bulma's bedside, giving her friend a forehead kiss. Vegeta stood back, watching.

"You're here," Bulma said slowly. Her eyes seemed to be staring into another world. "I'm all right, Chi Chi. I…I… sound like this because…"

"_Wait_," Vegeta interrupted, moving next to Chi Chi. "Why has she been drugged?"

"I'll be all right." Bulma's gaze fixed on Vegeta briefly and then Panchy. "It's just Xanax."

Always resourceful, Trunks had read his mother's medical chart. No one noticed, which offered enough time to plan a few steps ahead of his worried father.

"They didn't _drug_ her, dad," he said confidently. "They gave her medicine for anxiety, to help her feel better." The boy gently took Bulma's hand. "If that's what it takes to get you through, mom, then I'm all for it."

"Oh, that's so sweet of you to say," Panchy said, eagerly hugging her blushing grandson. "Wasn't that nice, Vegeta?"

Vegeta didn't know how to respond, really, as everyone waited. Bulma would be OK, he knew, once they got her home the next day. Taking medicine for "anxiety" and whatnot didn't fit her character, he believed. She was the toughest, brightest woman he knew.

Sure she was, but Vegeta should have known better than to equate toughness with being in your right mind. Actually, he knew about that part quite well. Nevertheless, _no one_ in this family would fall apart about this unfortunate situation. He simply could not allow that. Bulma had to accept their loss and move on.

Just like he was doing now.

"Your mother will be fine," he said at last. "It's getting late. I'll stay here and bring her home tomorrow. Trunks, you will stay at your grandmother's condo tonight."

Panchy clutched her grandson's arm before Trunks could argue. "That is a _great_ plan. I know you didn't finish eating at home. My kitchen is stocked with food, or we can have cake and milk! It's not too late yet."

"No," Bulma said. "Not… too many sweets. You got that, kid?"

"All right." Trunks tried not to appear annoyed, but only for her sake. "I love you."

"Same." Bulma felt like crying but didn't want to upset them more. "Get out of here."

Chi Chi nodded at Vegeta, following the other two out. He glanced at Bulma before pulling the woman aside.

"I will not forget your care for her."

"Nope, you won't," Chi Chi said, waving him off. "I'll never let you, and in case you've forgotten, I always have cared for your wife. You also owe me a hell of a lot more, considering how much time Goku wastes with you."

"Hn.'" Vegeta almost cracked a smile at her cheekiness. "On that part, I cannot repay you."

* * *

Vegeta returned to Bulma's bedside, sitting down. Feeling ashamed, Bulma avoided eye contact. After a few silent minutes, Vegeta exhaled, offering support with a tender touch. He finally understood how hard it must have been for her to tend his injuries, especially the self-inflicted ones. Hospitals are harsh teachers, demanding patience and vulnerability. Bulma knew and accepted _what_ and _who_ he was, loving him abundantly, but…

"I don't understand any of this, Bulma. You did not have to -"

"I don't expect you to understand," she said, closing her eyes. Having more Xanax would be great now, she thought. Vegeta's earlier observation was correct. She hadn't realized how much internalized stress she was carrying until the medication relieved some of the pressure.

"What does that mean?"

"Apparently the universe thinks one child is enough for us," she said bitterly. "I'll get over the slight, eventually. Besides, you _hate_ surprises."

"You are not responsible for this loss," Vegeta replied. She must think logically, like him. "Neither am I. No one is."

"This _loss_?" Bulma released his hand. "We would have had a girl this time, you know that? That's what the early genetic tests showed, and you're wrong. I am responsible. I guess that pesky human 'weakness' of mine finally conquered my stubbornness."

Whatever residual anger Vegeta felt quickly faded. Offering more verbal reassurance wouldn't be enough either. His heartsick wife's behavior unmasked an unaddressed, lingering division between them, which neither spouse had full awareness of yet.

"I… see," he replied, gathering his thoughts. "I have been away long enough."

Bulma quietly retreated to their bedroom soon after arriving home. Earlier, before leaving the treatment center, a hospitalist gave her a short-term prescription for Xanax, advising her to see a therapist or join a women's grief-support group. Vegeta wasn't present during the conversation. Bulma said she would tell him.

She would tell him later, but there would be no support-group attendance. As one of the wealthiest people on Earth, bearing her soul to strangers felt horrifying. What if they couldn't keep their mouths shut? She'd have to disguise herself. What's the point? Other women in her friendship circle could be supportive, once she reached out to them.

After a few days, she realized the drug didn't mask or kill physical and mental pain, much like an opiate would. Xanax made her not give a shit about either, which she accepted. Stopping her thoughts from running like a caged mouse sufficed.

Vegeta followed his typical hours-long training regimen during the first week, but he switched the time, starting in the afternoon, and didn't leave home for much of anything. He didn't say much either but made sure Bulma arose each morning, ate, and dressed. After that, he stayed close enough to watch her daily progress.

He disliked the outcome. He had grudgingly accepted others' advice about Bulma pacing herself, because she had not while he was away, but this was the second week. She couldn't withdraw. They had lives to live. He loved his wife deeply but also felt confused. She seemed happy before. They worked hard _to be_ happy. Trunks and him weren't enough?

But he wasn't offended that _no one_ asked how he felt, now that others knew: not his son, Bulma's friends, or even Goku or Gohan. _No one at all._ But why would they anyway? He was never the poster boy for approachability, even as his personality mellowed over the years. Chi Chi had come closest, confronting him firmly but also empathetically at hospital.

Bulma didn't feel like puttering in her private home lab or visiting the office. She worked in spurts to keep her mind relatively active. In between, she took a half pill, a whole one, two or more, leaving her buzzed, sleepy or both. She usually pulled herself together to be mentally present for Trunks. He was her baby after all.

Her baby. He had grown up. So fast.

But Trunks knew the situation had to change, regretting everything he said at hospital. His mother seemed to be going down fast. He didn't want to be angry, but what was so wrong about things staying the way they were? Was she unhappy with him? He wondered if his parents were having marital problems. Sure, they had arguments, but they had been happy together for a long time. _He saw it, up close_.

On Saturday, Vegeta and Trunks returned from swimming, both ready for dinner. Panchy picked up Bulma earlier for breakfast and shopping. Then, Bulma would stay overnight at Panchy's home with Chi Chi and Videl. Vegeta didn't stand in his mother-in-law's way, although he wondered how long his wife would endure Panchy's incessant talking. Maybe it would do some good, though.

He found Bulma stumbling in the kitchen getting water. Some had splashed on the floor. He couldn't take this anymore. Bulma must have scored more pills while she was out. He would personally rip the skin off whoever prescribed more.

"No more." He took Bulma's wrist, reaching into her right pocket. "This is all happening too fast."

"Give me that," she demanded, snatching her arm back. "I'm fine."

"Why are you not with your mother? How did you get more of these pills?"

"Because _I'm an adult_, Vegeta. I have the right to change my mind."

"Should I call Panchy and find out myself?" he asked angrily. "How could she allow this?"

"Allow this?" All Bulma wanted to do was sleep a little bit. She actually felt calmer while Vegeta and Trunks weren't there. "Well, isn't that ironic. You know what? Why don't you stop telling me what the hell to do? How about that?"

Vegeta stared, attempting to shut his feelings down. He could help her this way. Listening to his wife felt like another time. He had used these words with Bulma often, when they were younger, pushing their "intrusive" emotions away until he couldn't anymore.

"_That's right_," she said, wiping hot tears. Her head nodded as if a big secret had been revealed. "I am _reclaiming_ my time, Vegeta. I'm tired of you and everyone else expecting me to be strong all the time. I'm tired of lying to myself. Maybe I need a fucking break too, you know?"

"Mom, I said you will be fine!" Trunks exclaimed, running over to her. Feeling helpless, he looked at Vegeta. "Please. Dad?"

"It's all right, baby," Bulma said. Her eyes drooped as the words fell out. "I'm just having a hard time. It will pass."

Vegeta wished their boy couldn't see her like this. "Trunks, come over here."

"But…" Trunks looked at Bulma again before approaching his father. "OK."

"I want you to understand something." Vegeta exhaled, bending over halfway. "First, none of this is your fault. Second, I will take care of your mother. Can you trust me?"

Trunks hesitated, looking down.

Vegeta's eyes closed. He touched the side of Trunks' head. "Please."

Trunks nodded, holding back tears. "Should I call grandma or Chi Chi?"

"Neither," Bulma objected. She really wanted to rest, but her baby was upset. "I'm sorry... I scared you, honey, but really, I will be fine."

"I want you to go over there," Vegeta whispered. "Bulma and I will be in our bedroom."

Trunks hugged his mother before leaving. Bulma kissed both sides of his face. "You are awesome, you know that? Remember that, always. Your dad and I -"

"Mom, you don't have to keep explaining, all right? Just let dad help you."

"OK, honey." Bulma moved aside, letting him pass. "OK."

Vegeta's face and eyes were frozen. Finally, he achieved what he had intended. His fear and fire were contained behind the mask. His Saiyan sensibilities encouraged him to do it. He only focused on helping his wife. It was better this way. He couldn't allow anger to consume him. This situation needed a different response. He had seen Bulma emotionally hurt before, but never falling apart in front of his eyes.

"Ah, yes." Despite being drugged-up, Bulma recognized the change. They had been partners for too long to miss it. "The proud Saiyan prince _shuts down_ in real time! I guess that's better than yelling at me."

"You obviously aren't yourself," Vegeta said, stepping forward. She had taken more pills than he first realized. How could this happen so fast? "I had no intention of yelling at you. Not once since this started. Attacking when you're like this would be dishonorable."

"Dishonorable?" Feeling light-headed, Bulma sat down. "See, Vegeta? That's the problem. I am _very_ _much _myself. Just leave me alone." She covered her reddened face, hands pressing hard on both sides. "Leave me alone."

"You know I can't do that," Vegeta replied quietly. "You can barely walk. I'm taking you upstairs."

Bulma didn't resist when he carried her from the kitchen. Her head laid on his warm chest. She fell asleep before they reached the top of the stairs.

Death had tried to separate their family repeatedly, and they endured. But this lost child wouldn't be subjected to pain and danger because of who and what they were, Vegeta thought. But the family would be fine.

Right?

* * *

Bulma awoke next to a food tray. Soup, a dinner roll, and a water glass sat on top. Vegeta watched her closely, pointing at the setup.

"I'm not hungry," she said sleepily. She wanted to say more but couldn't find the words. Why couldn't Vegeta just let her rest? He could be strong for everyone right now.

He was strong. Strong and proud. Her great love. He was Saiyan. No nonsense. Her greatest love. His greatest love.

"I know." Vegeta put a spoon into her hands. "Xanax does that, apparently. Eat a little."

"Where's…um…where is…" Bulma looked at a family picture on the nightstand.

"Trunks?" Bulma's response jabbed a hole in his already porous emotional armor. "He's with everyone you were supposed to spend time with."

"Oh."

Vegeta dipped another spoon into the soup, bringing it to Bulma's lips. She grimaced, shaking her head until he put it on the tray. "I guess we've reversed roles in some ways. Took long enough, I suppose."

Grooved wrinkles appeared on Bulma's forehead. She didn't understand.

"When I almost died in the gravity chamber, Bulma. I gave you hell afterward."

"Yeah." Bulma shrugged, wondering why he dug up old bones. "Long time ago."

"I think I understand now." Vegeta tried feeding her again, which she accepted. "I have tried reconciling it for myself. I wasn't here. Deep down, I think you still have feelings about what happened when you were pregnant with Trunks. Maybe you were unsure about telling me more this time than you consciously realized."

"No." Bulma sat up straight, shoving the spoon away. "You _will not_ blame me, Vegeta. I said…said the wrong thing at hospital because I…I was upset."

"I'm not blaming you." Vegeta gently moved her hair back. "I'm not, but you must believe what I'm saying for yourself. _I am here._ You don't have to be a fortress. I've been wrong. From the moment I learned what happened, I wanted somewhere to turn. That's always been you. I still want to fix this, to make it go away, but I can't."

Bulma stared through vacant, listless eyes. "I'll be OK."

"I want you to understand something." Vegeta stood up, feeling angry and determined. "I'm not letting my wife disappear on me."

He headed to the gravity training room, setting the robot shooters for a high-intensity workout. The arrangement produced good results, until a beam hit his arm point blank. Angry hands extended, shattering the robot. Vegeta destroyed the others, screaming wildly, speaking in Saiyan. Fatherhood hadn't been for him. He had been a warrior prince under the tutelage of a father and, later, a tyrant who were suspicious of sentiment. Yet the king cared enough to send Vegeta's brother, Tarble, away so the boy wouldn't be killed by the tyrant. Wasn't that sentiment?

But once family opened Vegeta's soul on Earth - all of it - there was no turning back. A child had been lost. His child.

Their child.

He dropped on his knees, silent and brokenhearted.

* * *

Bulma had finished eating by the time Vegeta returned. He thought about Trunks. The boy had left a voice message in the kitchen: "Dad, I told grandma and Chi Chi to come tomorrow. That's better for everyone, I think. I didn't tell everything. Good night."

Vegeta planned to reward his son with something. He didn't know what, but they would figure it out together.

He had showered and changed into sleepwear before Bulma realized his presence in bed. She drew closer into his accepting, relieved embrace. It was the first time she allowed him to do that since leaving hospital.

"I won't… disappear on you," she said, touching his chest. "I'm sorry."

"I _can't_ disappear on you, Bulma."

They kissed.

* * *

***The end.** **Comments are welcome. Be well.***


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